


Hanky Panky

by BoredRavenvlaw620



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: EWE, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Seduction, Sexual Content, Strictly Dramione Valentine's Day Smut Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 04:43:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17759996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoredRavenvlaw620/pseuds/BoredRavenvlaw620
Summary: Tip 38 said, 'Dropping the Handkerchief still works.' Hermione Granger learns a lesson in coquettery from none other than Draco Malfoy.





	Hanky Panky

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my fabulous betas, Kyonomiko and TheMourningMadam. You ladies are the best!

 

“What is it they call this little issue, Hermione?”

“Hoarding. It’s called hoarding, Ginny.”

“Oh, hush, you two. There are some useful things here,” Molly Weasley insisted.

As a New Year’s resolution, Molly had enlisted help to clear out the Burrow’s attic. The ghoul long gone and her children carving lives of their own, she found she was finally convinced to clear out old clutter.

“Molly, I love you like a second mother, but no one needs this many back issues of _Witch Weekly_.”

“The recipes, dear.”

“Mum, when was the last time you needed a recipe?”

Molly waved her hand dismissively as she thumbed through an ancient moth eaten edition of the periodical. They worked in near silence for a bit longer; dust eliciting a few coughing fits.

“Now tell me this one isn't full of excellent tips!” Molly shoved the frayed magazine under Hermione's nose.

Hermione blinked rapidly to clear the dust from her eyes-- _One Hundred Twenty-Nine Tips for catching and Keeping a Wizard_ \-- ”Oh… um… thanks?”

“Maybe if you use some of these tips, you could find a nice man to settle down with--like Ginny.”

Ginny laughed into her hand. Hermione felt only _slightly_ vindicated that the laugh quickly transitioned into a cough. Sighing, Hermione set the book aside and returned to work.  
…  
She was dirty, sweaty, and smelled of stale paper--not the comforting scent of carefully preserved parchment bound in leather, but wet, mouldy paper; and Molly had gifted her with one in particular.

 _One Hundred Twenty-Nine Tips for Catching and Keeping a Wizard_ … from 1958.

Hermione was a modern witch of the twenty-first century, highly in favor of a bit of fun with a sexy wizard. She didn’t need some antiquated advice from a tabloid to achieve her means--a concept Molly didn’t seem to grasp.

Hermione flipped through the ragged pages, astonished that fashion in the wizarding world appeared to have evolved so little; Victorian details and robes reigned then and now. Hermione thought back on muggle fashion of the fifties; celebrating the hourglass figure, still modest with just a touch of coquette. Maybe she could mix it up a bit by incorporating some muggle-vintage inspired looks.

Turning another page, she came to the blasted article on how to ‘catch you a wizard’. _Cue dramatic and overly exasperated eye roll. At least it would be good for a laugh._

Hermione settled in with a cup of tea and a closed mind. She couldn’t even make it through the whole list--by suggestion thirty-eight, _Dropping the handkerchief still works,_ she tossed the antiquated publication into the bin with a scoff and picked up her copy of _Potion Quarterly_ to catch up on the latest in potion research; the old fashioned dating tips quickly forgotten. From her tome fell a crisp cream square of parchment:

  
_Wander through Enchanted Gardens of Love_  
 _At the_  
 _200th Annual_  
 _Ministry of Magic_  
 _Valentine’s Gala_

_The Fourteenth of February_   
_In the Splendid Gardens of_   
_Malfoy Manor_

  
A garden party at Malfoy Manor was not her idea of a desirable Valentine’s Day. A garden party in February--anywhere in Britain--was equally undesirable, but Hermione reckoned that warming charms and the like would be put to good use.

Valentine’s Day arrived and, being the dutiful Ministry employee that she was, Hermione straightened the sash at the waist of her vintage dress. Checking her lipstick, and needlessly fluffing her hair, she apparated to the gates of Malfoy Manor.

The war long over, Narcissa and Draco spent the majority of their time donating to charities and opening their home for the Ministry's use. Their image-reformation efforts proved fruitful--they were likely the first family to be approached to support various efforts and humanitarian projects.

Hermione had even benefited from their social turn-around and received unexpected support for her legislation on house elf rights, more of a personal goal than the focus of her career. Their freeing of the Malfoy house elves had set off a chain reaction among other purebloods and ended with a satisfying victory for Hermione. Rumor also had it that some of the funding for her research in the Ministry’s Potions lab was provided by the family.

After making her peace with the Malfoys at the end of the War, Hermione’s personal interactions with them were few and far between; Narcissa busy ruling the social world, and Draco… well, Draco was busy being Wizarding Britain's most eligible bachelor--rich, charming, and charismatic. They crossed paths from time to time at the odd social event or in Diagon Alley, but they weren’t quite friends or enemies per se. They were more or less casual acquaintances, and that suited her just fine.

Hermione was greeted at the gate by a carriage, complete with coachman and footman decked out in embellished livery. Smiling, she suppressed an eye roll at the pageantry and accepted the footman’s hand and assistance into the carriage.

The ride was surprisingly smooth--magic she supposed--and before she could further ponder what sort of charm-work was involved, she was once again offered the footman’s hand to be helped from the carriage.

Smoothing the full skirt of her dress, Hermione set off into the gardens.

…  
Hermione always found mingling at these affairs a bit tedious. Though she was polite and engaging, her attention was seldom captured by the inane, platitude-riddled small talk. The idle prattle was mitigated by several glasses of pink champagne, however.

She found herself mercifully alone by a--hopefully ironic--sculpture of a plump-faced, winged Cupid. The warming and environmental charms notwithstanding, the February air still held a chill and her nose had started to run. Hermione opened her clutch and pulled out the embroidered lace handkerchief her mother gifted her at Christmas.

As she surveyed the party, hopeful not to be caught rudely cleaning her nose, she met the intense stormy gaze of one Draco Malfoy.

The fact that he was watching her surprised Hermione and she dropped her handkerchief. Draco raised his eyebrows curiously as he watched Hermione artfully summon the favor and proceed to wipe gently over her upper lip. Folding the scrap of lace, Hermione gently ran her fingers along the edges, irrespective of any onlookers.

Her moment of solitude was broken by Theo Nott. “Good afternoon, Miss Granger,” he drawled, his right hand extended, presumably to shake Hermione’s hand, but instead he placed a kiss on her knuckles, his lips lingering a moment longer than what was appropriate. _Was that the tip of his tongue?_

Hermione laughed uncomfortably, “Good afternoon to you as well. To what do I owe the favor of your _company?_ ”

“It’s only natural for a wizard to be drawn to the most beautiful witch at the party,” he answered with a leer.

She began to fidget with the handkerchief, wiping the remnants of his _affections_ away and twisting it within her hands. “Thank you?” she surmised; Theodore Nott had never given her a sideways glance let alone approached her so brazenly.

Theo’s eyes traveled lower, Hermione assumed he was assessing the goods, and then suddenly he gave a resigned sigh, “If you’ll forgive me, Miss Granger. I hope you enjoy the rest of the party,” and with that he retreated as abruptly as he appeared. _Wizards were strange creatures at times._

The handkerchief still in her hand, Hermione pushed a wayward curl over her shoulder as she gave in to the fancy of wandering through the Malfoy gardens. The comely and intelligent witch was blissfully unaware of the amused look on Draco’s face as he excused himself from his present conversation and followed her.

...  
Clearly, the Malfoy matriarch took great care with her gardens. They were precisely manicured and designed in such a way that Hermione felt quite alone. The subtle crunch of dry winter grass broke the moment.

“Fancy seeing you here, Miss Granger.”

Hermione twirled around to meet Draco’s amused gaze. “I was invited, _Mr._ Malfoy,” she returned, “You’re the one who followed _me_ into the gardens.”

Draco chuckled, his face the picture of pure delight. “Too right you are.”

Hermione carefully considered the wizard in front of her. Disregarding the handkerchief still in her right hand, she pushed another unruly curl over her right ear. Draco’s eyes followed the gesture with interest. “What?” she challenged, “Are you going to have a go at my hair, Malfoy?”

Confusion flashed across his face. “I think your hair quite suits you.”

Hermione raised a questioning brow. The handkerchief still in her hand, she flipped more curls over her shoulder and turned to continue walking.

Draco was by her side in a mere moment, amusement dancing in those quick silver eyes and in the curl of his smirk. “You don’t believe me?”

Hermione stopped to regard him fully; lips pursed and eyes narrowed, she tilted her head to the left, resting her cheek against her hand--the hand now holding the handkerchief.

Draco pushed forward, rising to meet the challenge written across her face. “It’s fetchingly wild and untameable--completely unique.”

“My hair?”

“Among other things,” Draco purred.

Bemused, Hermione ducked her head, her forehead resting on her handkerchief-wielding hand briefly. This playful and flirtatious turn of conversation was intriguing to the witch. “Oh? Do tell, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco surveyed their surroundings momentarily, for what, Hermione had no idea. When he made eye contact again it was to say, “Your incredible intellect, for one. I found your latest theories on healing potions most compelling.”

“You’ve read my work?”

“Certainly,” he nodded in confirmation, “Potions was always been an interest of mine. In fact I just obtained a fascinating collection of first edition Potions texts. Would you be interested in taking a look at them with me, Miss Granger?”

She gasped and her face lit up with her clear interest. “Lead the way.”

“With pleasure. And please, call me Draco.”

Hermione, caught by the absurdity and the champagne, giggled, “Only if you’ll call me Hermione.”

Draco gave a deep chuckle and nodded as he presented his arm to escort her. With a smug smile on his face, they snuck away from the party.

…  
Draco’s private study was just as Hermione would have imagined--not that she spent much energy considering how he spent his free time. Well… there had been the odd fantasy now and again, prominently featuring the handsome wizard. _A girl is entitled to her fantasies._ Bookshelves lined the walls, floor-to-ceiling, on either side of the grey marble fireplace. A leather chesterfield sofa was positioned in front of the hearth, a table flanking either end. The plush high pile carpet spanned the floor before the hearth where Hermione half expected a bear skin rug. _Thank Merlin, that would have been cliche._

Hermione wandered slowly into the room, her fingers running lightly over the back of the sofa. She smiled at the reading glasses sitting atop what was, presumably, the most recent volume to catch Malfoy’s attention.

Draco immediately went to his bar and poured them each two fingers of firewhisky. He watched surreptitiously as she approached the bookshelf, reverently caressing the leather spines. “You have quite a collection here,” Hermione breathed.

She turned, surprised to find Malfoy so close proffering a drink. Hermione gratefully took the crystal tumbler, a shy smile on her face as she ducked toward the other bookshelf for a perusal of its offerings.

Hermione stared at the rare works, unseeing as her head swam. The room was dim and warm; it smelled of wood smoke, whisky and a scent she was now certain was Draco’s cologne.

“I find the original texts the best reference for understanding the intricacies of more complex magic.” Hermione gasped at the feeling of Malfoy’s breath ghosting over her ear. She took a pull of the firewhisky and hummed in agreement.

Hermione slowly padded toward the sofa. Draco followed, a quick flick of his wrist igniting a blazing fire in the hearth as he took a seat beside her.

“I had a chance to skim over this one.” Draco edged closer on the sofa as he slipped on his reading glasses and then carefully opened the aged binding.

Hermione discarded her drink on the side table and leaned in to get a better look at the book. The print was still crisp, but faded notes lined the margins. Observing Draco out of the corner of her eye, she found his face alight with the same sense of fascination she currently felt.

Relaxing into the moment, she allowed her mind to be seduced by heretofore unknown information. Her body was soon beguiled by the heady aura of the room--the warmth, scent, and feel of the wizard next to her. They drank whisky and discussed potions; whether they sat for hours or minutes, she was uncertain. She simply gave herself over to the moment.

Draco’s voice was almost a whisper, his fingers reverent as they traced the words. “I can’t believe the amount of aconite used in this pain draught.”

She could only whisper her response, her fingers brushing along side Draco’s. “The things that have changed in the last few years alone are staggering… and not just in regards to potions.”

As Draco gently closed the book, Hermione leaned away, suddenly aware of how close her face was to his, and how casually she was perched on his sofa, shoes discarded and her legs tucked under her voluminous skirt. When Draco removed his glasses and laid them gently on the side table, Hermione’s breath hitched at the intensity of his eyes, the firelight reflected in their depths. He deftly closed the distance between them--the amount of grace he displayed in traversing the sofa was a sight to behold.

His fingers grazed her cheek as he pushed one of her ever errant curls behind her ear, his fingers trailing the length of her neck. “I find change to be most cathartic.”

Hermione fell deeper into the sensations around her--the heat of the fire, the excitement of exploring rare texts, the sensation of masculine fingers caressing her skin. She sighed, biting her bottom lip and tilting her head to offer Draco better access. His fingers continued their path down her slender neck to the bateau neckline of her dress, finding her exposed clavicles. “Throwing off archaic notions and embracing new possibilities. It’s positively freeing. Don’t you think?”

“Mmhmmm,” Hermione moaned more than hummed. Her eyes were closed; the whisper of his breath on her skin preceded the press of his lips.

His lips were cool and moist from the whisky as they explored her throat; his fingers firm and certain as he drew them down the length of her body and around to the small of her back. Hermione felt the flush of arousal bloom throughout her as she readily complied with his unspoken request to come closer.

She moaned softly as Draco continued to tease the sensitive skin of her neck, her pulse beating wildly beneath his lips as she pushed her breasts into the hard planes of his chest. She felt the vibration of his throaty growl ripple through her as his hand gripped the fabric of her dress, drawing her more firmly into him.

Hermione, ever the progressive witch, threw her leg over Draco’s lap and straddled him on the couch. The surprise on his face lasted but a moment, before he hitched his hips up in approval. Hermione arched into the sensation, a delicious friction building between them.

Draco’s hands returned to her lower back, strong and sure. Hermione ran her hands appreciatively over his chest and shoulders before finding purchase in the downy hair at the nape of his neck. Their eyes locked; topaz and slate a mere pittance compared to their lust blown pupils.

The crackle of the fire and their ragged breaths the only sounds for one long moment before their lips met. Hermione sighed into the kiss. Draco’s lips, warmed from his previous ministrations, now pillowed against hers. His movements, confident and displaying evident practice, drove her need through luscious waves of exploration building in pressure and intensity. She could taste the firewhisky that lingered on his tongue.

Draco’s hands began to roam; he palmed her backside, growling appreciatively as she rocked over him before he continued over her hips and down her legs to find the hem of her dress.

His hands were so large compared to her own. Strong fingers and lightly calloused palms traveled over her smooth thighs coming to rest at her hips. The tips of his fingers dipped just under the lace of her knickers; she felt his breath catch as she once again pressed her center against his ever-hardening arousal, his fingers squeezing her flesh.

Draco fumbled with the fabric of her skirt and Hermione found herself giggling into his neck. “This is a lovely frock, but I find that I would much prefer it elsewhere at the moment,” he mentioned, his frustration at her clothed state mounting.

Biting her lip; a playful smile on her face, Hermione reached behind her back and deftly drew the zipper down. Draco’s eyes fixed on the neckline of her dress as it fell; his eager hands assisting the fabric on its journey downward.

“Stunning,” he breathed, running his fingers along the lace edges of her brassiere.

Breathy sighs left her mouth as he gingerly circled her covered nipples. Hermione’s fingers found the buttons of his shirt; her hands and mouth greedy for the sensation of the skin beneath.

With an almost feral growl, Draco stood abruptly from the sofa; a shriek of surprise and delight came from the wanton witch in his arms as he decisively scooped her up and laid her down on the plush carpet, positioning himself at her side. Hermione quickly shimmied the dress off her legs and tossed it to the side. Her skin glowed in the fire light as she lay before him in nothing but her bra and knickers.

Draco wasted only a moment on simple visual appreciation before he connected his lips with hers and brought his hands back to her body. Hermione responded in kind, fervently returning his kiss while pushing the shirt off his shoulders and arms, tossing it in the general direction of her dress.

A haze of arousal enveloped them both, needy moans and sighs breaking the silence. Her fingers found his belt buckle just as he released the fastenings of her brassiere, more clothes adding to the pile.

Draco’s tongue was soft on her skin as he trailed a path from her throat to her breasts. He turned his attention to her nipples; flicking one hardened nub with his tongue while lightly pinching the other between his dexterous fingers. She writhed and arched under the sensations as she explored his defined torso. Her hands found his taut rear and squeezed the deliciously rounded muscles. Draco thrust his hips in response; grinding his covered erection into her hot center.

“Not enough,” Hermione groaned in frustration, “Want you… _now._ ”

He chuckled around her nipple, the vibration earning him a gasp. “Patience, witch.” And with a last playful flick to her nipple he descended.

The loss of friction from his pelvis was only mollified by the lustful intent in his eyes as his face came even with the lace gusset of her knickers. His tongue ran along the crease of her hip and thigh. Hermione loosed a moan that she was sure could be heard in the gardens; squirming for friction all the while.

Draco pressed his mouth directly to her covered core with a rich rumble of desire that had Hermione clamping her legs about his head. He pulled on the sides of her knickers and Hermione released her hold as he dragged the scrap of moistened fabric down her legs.

The torture continued as he kissed, licked and rubbed his way up one leg to her hip and then began again on the other; Hermione became overheated with desire. At long last his hot mouth made contact with the lips of her quim.

“Oh, yes, Draco, _yes!_ ” Hermione’s hands gripped his silky tresses as she rocked her hips against his face, his nimble tongue teasing her delicate folds.

He hummed and moaned in approval as he ran the flat of his tongue from her entrance to her clit, ending the trail with a flick. His hands were holding her open at the crease of her hip and thigh, and as Draco paid homage to the sensitive nub, he teased her opening with his thumb. The pressure of his tongue; the vibrations of his moans and grunts; the subtle press of his thumb--it was sinfully delicious. “Oh… gods… right _there…_ ”

Wicked promises danced in the stormy depths of his eyes when she looked into them. She gasped as he ran his tongue along the length of her, a steady hum from his throat and his middle finger--curling upward--driving her pleasure. His hips ground into the rug.

Her body tensed in anticipation as he pressed and stroked against her silky walls; his lips feathering kisses on her sensitized clit. Electric impulses of pleasure and pressure bloomed from her hot core. The introduction of a second finger and a deep groan from his throat ignited her orgasm like a fiery strike of lightning. Hermione gasped, unable to breathe momentarily as he licked and stroked her through the pulsing waves.

With a resolute stroke of tongue and fingers he began to crawl up her flushed body. Draco kissed and sucked a heated path from her mons to her breasts, climbing further until they were once again face-to-face.

Propping up with his elbows on either side of her head, he pressed his chest against hers and nestled his straining, frustratingly still covered, cock firmly in her folds. Hermione squirmed needily and he responded with a firm push of his hips, brushing sweaty curls off her forehead.

His eyes were soft and his smirk was full of devilish delight. Hermione ran her short but manicured nails up and down his spine finally reaching the band of his briefs. She pushed insistently and he reached down to assist her cause.

Once freed, Draco canted his hips and positioned his tip at Hermione’s entrance, his eyes locked on hers. Simultaneously he connected their lips and bodies. Hermione moaned into his mouth as she wrapped her legs around his hips and encouraged him forward.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, breaking the kiss to press his forehead to hers.

Hermione was past the point of coherent speech as she let the sensations enrapture her: the weight of Draco’s body; the ridges of his cock brushing against her slick walls; the delicious friction on her clit as their hips met with each thrust; her panting, breathy moans that mingled with his grunts and growls of pleasure as they filled the room, the intensity burning in his eyes.

“That’s it Hermione.” His thrusts became more persistent. “I want to feel you get there.” Then he snaked his hand between their bodies and began to stroke either side of her clit.

Hermione’s back arched deeper, her thighs squeezing tighter and her nails digging into his shoulders as she felt the approaching crescendo. “Don’t stop, Draco.”

Draco continued his steady thrusting and rhythmic stroking as Hermione pinched and squeezed at her own nipples. “Ah… _oh, gods_ … yes… yes… _yes!_ ” she cried as her walls clenched around his hard length, her heels pressing into his firm buttocks and holding him flush against her.

Releasing a deep moan, he jerked in her grasp, his back arching, the tendons of his throat in full relief as he emptied into the hot depth of her body.

They remained connected in the afterglow; their hands caressed sweat-slicked skin as they kissed, slow and sensual. Draco slipped out and moved to her side. He summoned a blanket from somewhere and spooned her against his chest. The embers of the fire cast a soft glow over them.

Draco chuckled as he ran the pads of his fingers over her exposed skin. “I must say, I found you quite entertaining today.”

“I was equally entertained,” Hermione teased, pushing her hips more firmly into his.

Draco responded in kind, kissing and licking along the skin of her shoulder. “The way you used that handkerchief was bloody _brilliant._ ”

“I'm not sure how brilliant it is to wipe your nose, but thanks?” _Wizards--what a strange lot_.

“Wipe your nose?”

Hermione shrugged in his hold. “Yes. Though the warming charms were adequate, it's still winter here in Britain and I got a touch chilled.”

It started as a staccato twitching and soon morphed into full laughter. She turned in his arms, “My rhinorrhea is funny to you?”

Draco took a deep breath to stay his amusement. “You dropped your handkerchief.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to catch on.

“And?”

“That's a signal for wanting to meet.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide with realization. _That damned article!_ “That's why you followed me?”

“Not entirely. You _are_ quite fetching and I hoped we’d get a chance to speak before that,” he shrugged. “Then you wiped it over your mouth, folded it and ran your fingers over it; signals you wanted to flirt and talk. I was going to come talk to you, but then Nott walked over,” He reached over and pulled her back into his arms, “but you shut him down with your little hanky trick.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows in question.

“Twisting it in your hands.”

Hermione breathed a soft _oh_ , and looked expectantly for Draco to continue. He gave her a chaste kiss, tucked her closer under his chin and chuckled before he continued. “Let's see, you brushed it over your shoulder, that's the sign to follow you. And in the garden you brushed it over your ear and touched your face. You had no idea what a little coquette you were being, did you?”

Hermione pulled back to look up at him, and despite their lovemaking, she blushed in her embarrassment and shook her head. Draco smiled warmly and kissed her nose. She settled back into his embrace, “I guess _‘dropping the hanky’_ does still work.”

Draco squeezed her tighter, “I’ll say it does.”

  
_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> All kinds of tips on how to flirt with a handkerchief online! Check it out!  
> Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading. Kudos and reviews are greatly appreciated!


End file.
